Finding Reality
by iVans
Summary: He was losing his grip on reality, slowly becoming more and more lost within his self. And then came Kurt. Blaine/Kurt.
1. Chapter 1: Texts

Chapter One: **Texts**

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Dalton was beautiful in the winter, and outside his window the rising sun was melting the topmost snow crystals, leaving the flat grounds shimmering in the yellowish light. His phone next to his bed said it was only six o'clock, half an hour earlier than Blaine generally liked to get up.

A memory and a scream, that ended up being his own, had woken him up about half an hour ago and after a long cold shower to try to shock himself into reality he found himself staring outside, still clad in just a sweatshirt and boxers.

"Dude, shut the blinds," David groaned from the bottom bunk of the bunk beds he and Wes shared. "It's too early."

In his head Blaine saw himself reach out and close the blinds, but in reality his hand remained stuck to his side and his eyes remained glued on the shimmering white outside.

"Blaine!" David growled, throwing a pillow at his roommate that nailed him in the head, but didn't stir him from his trance.

In his head Blaine saw himself turn around and smile reassuringly at David, letting him know that he was just messing, saw himself grin lopsidedly before turning to the window and closing the blinds.

But in reality, he couldn't move his eyes, couldn't move at all, and the sparkling white snow through the window was beginning to look oddly familiar. And the sun hitting the white was beginning to give it an unfortunately familiar red tint. And in his head he protested when David woke up Wes and then ran out to get the school nurse.

But in reality Blaine remained fixated on the snow that was beginning to show the ungodly red color.

"Blaine?" A face directly in front of Blaine's finally broke his trance and he jumped back startled by the intrusion of an older woman's face. "I'm going to help you to the sick wing, okay?"

"No, it's fine," Blaine stumbled, backing away from the women and slipping off the side of his bed, almost hitting the floor if he hadn't quickly be caught by David. "I'm fine."

"Blaine," The woman advanced, and Blaine took notice that the principle had suddenly appeared at his doorway, as well as the older RA. "I think we better get you to the sick wing, alright?" The nurse tried again, and Blaine struggled against David's arms suddenly feeling trapped before he remembered this was Dalton.

He wasn't trapped.

He went limp in David's arms and although he kept his face masked with void emotion, he wasn't oblivious to the sympathetic eyes each and every person on the room had trained on the 'poor, psychotic, gay boy'.

Poor, poor, Blaine.

Wes helped Blaine into a pair of extra sweat pants and threw a blanket over his shaking shoulders, and Blaine mumbled something that was meant to be thank you but got lost between the chatter of his teeth.

Blaine wasn't sure why he was shaking, he wasn't cold, and he was burning up. So fucking hot, and sweating and red as the blood on the snow outside.

Except there wasn't blood on the snow, Blaine had to keep reminding himself that. There wasn't blood this was Dalton.

This was reality, the present not the past.

It was Wes who gripped his forearm as he was led down the quiet Dalton hallways to the sick ward, everyone was still asleep, recovering from the weekend before Monday's classes started at nine.

It took four staircases to get down to the ward and when they entered the strong, familiar, scent of antiseptic burned his nose.

He couldn't stay here, he had to snap out of it, just for an hour. He had to be normal just for an hour. He'd play along for an hour, just long enough to come across as okay, that's all he needed to do.

Be okay for an hour.

So Blaine rested on a bed, his eyes half closed, watching Wes and the Nurse through a crack under his eyelids. He took the pills handed to him, listened to the lecture given, waited as Wes was given instructions by the nurse and exactly 57 minutes later he walked out of the sick wing, fake smile and fake attitude in place.

He'd been okay for an hour, now he just had to make it twenty-three more.

"Drop the attitude Blaine, no one recovers from a breakdown that fast," Wes whispered as the two climbed the staircase, passing through the halls as boys scrambled around trying to get down to breakfast before morning classes began.

"I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about," Blaine whispered back, his voice an octave higher than usual, "I'm fantastic."

Blaine and Wes returned to their room and each was in uniform within five minutes, scrambling with the rest of the student body to make it to first period.

David walked into the room from breakfast, and stared at Blaine who was running a hand through his messy hair.

"I call bullshit," David said with a roll of his eyes, "There's no way she'd let you out that fast."

Blaine rolled his eyes and pulled on his tie, "You'd be surprised, you forget, acting is my thing."

"She didn't ask to see your wrist, did she?" Wes called from the bathroom and Blaine winced when he heard a loud clunk in the trashcan, as Wes no doubt threw away to red stained razor. "Blaine, dude-"

"Fuck off and mind your own business," Blaine snapped, unconsciously tugging at the sleeve of his jacket, "I slipped up, sue me."

"We'd rather help you, not sue you," David mumbled but Blaine pretended not to hear as he shouldered his backpack.

"I'm fine," Blaine reassured with a fake, white smile, before he exited his room, slamming the door behind him. It was too easy at Dalton, to convince the authority he was fine, everyone wanted everyone to be fine. They didn't see past tricks.

It'd kill him one day, Blaine was sure of it.

Blaine was only halfway to his first period, U.S. History, when the late bell chimed and half a second later his phone buzzed. Already late, Blaine paused as second to take the phone from his pocket, smirking at the text.

_[Kurt-You're late! Saved you a spot :3]_

A real smile replaced his fake one for a second as he picked up his pace, and three minutes later he was taking his seat next to Kurt, with only a sympathetic glance from the teacher when he arrived five minutes late.

"Where were you?" Kurt whispered quietly while the teacher was turned around at the board and Blaine felt his shoulders tense up.

Where was he? The answer could lead to so much more, it could end everything. It could help, but Blaine knew it wouldn't. He had to lie, the only way to keep Kurt was to lie, he was sure of it.

"Fixing my hair, I wanted to make sure I would look alright next to you," Blaine said, flashing his famous fake grin that Kurt didn't know better not to believe. "Of course the competition was too hard to begin with, I shouldn't have bothered."

Kurt's tendency to blush at the simplest flirty line amused Blaine to no end and he smirked as Kurt's cheeks turned a rosy color.

Blaine felt his fake smile begin to fade, and his real smile fight to come forward, until halfway through the lecture, when his phone buzzed again.

Discretely, under his desk, Blaine pulled out his phone; four unread texts stared back at him.

_[Jacob-R U coming to my BB game tonight?]_

_[Wes-You tell Kurt?]_

_[David-You all right broski?]_

_[Dad—Your mother died, sending a car and driver up there now. Tell your brother.]_

And as Blaine stared up from the phone, eyes wide he caught a glimpse of the redness of the glimmering snow outside.

And then he heard sobs.

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**AN:** So I know I jumped into this dramatic story line very quickly, but that should give you a slight understanding of what to expect from it. I hope some of you enjoyed it, feel free to review if you would like, I always appreciate it.


	2. Chapter 2: Joey

_Chapter 2: **Joey**_

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_[Dad-Your mother died, sending a car and driver up there now. Tell your brother.]_

Blaine had read the text fifty-seven times in the last five minutes, the amount of time it had taken for the teacher to lead him to a dark room, to help him gather himself.

The darkness wasn't helping though; it just made the text brighter, more vibrant.

The principle had tried to take the phone from him, but Blaine hadn't been able to let go of it, he had wanted to, but couldn't bring himself to let go of the text.

Outside the room Blaine knew arrangements were being made, no one asked Blaine or regarded him about these plans, they just planned for him.

He wasn't mentally stable enough to plan, not right now. That's what they thought.

"Blaine?"

Blaine's head shot up, red, puffy eyes looking up dully into the principle's kind ones. Wordlessly Blaine pushed himself out of the overstuffed chair and entered the bright principle office, where David and Wes were already sitting stiffly, eyeing Blaine cautiously. Predicting his next move.

With a long heavy sigh Blaine flopped down in-between them and eyed the principle wearily, his hand still clutching his phone where the opened text still was.

"A car should be arriving within the hour," The principle stated as he began to sign papers that Blaine assumed were release papers, "If it's okay with you, Wes and David have both expressed desire to come with you, as support figures?"

"Of course," Blaine whispered as strong as he could, not wiling to sound as weak as he felt.

"Kurt too," Wes demanded and Blaine's ears picked up, of course Kurt. Where the hell was Kurt?

Blaine tried to think back to the last time he had seen him, right after he entered History. Then there was the text, and then there was red and then there was the dark room. What had happened to his Kurt?

"I'm not sure if that's a bright idea, Kurt and Blaine haven't quite known each other for the amount of-"

"I want Kurt," Blaine said determinedly, his eyes meeting the principle's eyes and locking with a cold glare.

The principle sighed but reach into his desk drawer and pulled out another release form and began to fill Kurt's out as well.

"You should go get ready," The principle directed the order at Wes who nodded, placing a hand on Blaine's shoulder and helping him to his feet, his hand not leaving Blaine's shoulder as he led him through the hallways.

David stuck close to Blaine's right side, as if trying to protect him from the stares and whispers that followed the trio up to their bedroom.

Gossip was wild fire in this school.

Gossip was death in this school.

Blaine turned the doorknob and opened his door, flanked on both sides by Wes and David, and immediately stopped. Sitting on his bed was Kurt, stiff, as if he had been waiting a long time for his return.

"Blaine-" Kurt said before Blaine began sobbing again, losing what ever strength he had gathered just by looking into the sorrowful eyes of Kurt. He slid against the wall until he was sitting on the floor, head resting on bent knees.

David excused himself to the restroom and Wes locked eyes with Kurt before giving him permission to handle the situation while Wes packed a bag for himself and Blaine.

Kurt slid down against the wall until he was on equal level with Blaine and rested a shaking hand on his shoulder.

"Blaine?" Kurt repeated again, slowly.

"Yeah?" Blaine whispered, trying to find his voice.

"I have to go home, before I can come. Okay?"

"Oh," Blaine replied his eyes focused again on text in front of him.

"But I'll be there soon, two days at the most, I have to converse with my father," Kurt explained hurriedly and Blaine nodded along, eyes glued on the screen.

The two sat in uncomfortable silence as Wes and David continued to race around the room, gathering any small item that could be vital for the trip, the trip back to Boston, the trip for Blaine's mother. A trip that had no time, just a purpose.

A shitty purpose.

Blaine rested his head against the wall, looking up from the screen for a second to stare directly into the large florescent light above him. It burned his eyes and he felt himself wince slightly, but as he continued to stare everything else in the room began to have a red tint. And ungodly, magnificent, red tint.

Red chairs, Red floor, Red Walls.

Red Kurt.

Blaine immediately turned his attention back to the phone, blinking away the image. No red Kurt, absolutely not. He wouldn't lose two people. He couldn't let that happen.

"Blaine?" Kurt asked again, after a long seven minutes of silence since he told him he wouldn't be leaving with him today, "Is that okay?"

Blaine closed his eyes and all he saw was red Kurt. He groaned loudly, rubbing at his eyes harshly, trying to scrub the image away.

Before Kurt could push the question again, Wes appeared, two suitcases packed, and David emerged from the bathroom a minute later, hair-dripping wet from a quick shower and a duffle bag in his hand.

"The car's here," Wes observed, looking haphazardly through the window, "We should go."

Blaine slowly began to stand up, eyes still trained on the phone screen.

"Wait!" Kurt yelled quickly, snatching Blaine's wrist to keep him down, and for a split second Blaine felt like he was in reality again, like he was back to life.

He turned his eyes from his phone and locked them on Kurt's, but as soon as the moment had come, it had gone.

"Never mind, I'll be there soon," Kurt whispered, releasing Blaine's wrist and his eyes quickly traveled right back to the screen.

David gave Blaine a slight push and without looking back at Kurt, Blaine rushed out of the door, down to the awaiting car.

The driver was new, not one Blaine had met before, and never one to make a poor first impression, he struggled to take his eyes way from his phone screen and to gather what some could consider a hint of a smile.

"Thanks," Blaine said stiffly, as if the words hurt him and David's hand on his shoulder did little to relax him as he opened the car's door and climbed in. Wes and David followed in suit.

The three were busy with their seatbelts and arranging themselves for a few minutes. And just as the car started to turn out of the gates of Dalton, Blaine looked up and gasped in disbelief.

"Joey?" Blaine asked, and Wes and David both looking in confusion at Blaine and the misplaced small smile which had suddenly taken over the tragic despair that had been etched on his face earlier, and then looked across the seat where they noticed another person in the car.

"Hey man," Joey greeted as sentimental as he could, "How you holdin' up?"

It was Joey.

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**AN: **Wanted a new chapter but also wanted to go to sleep. I did both but the quality of each will probably be severely diminished. Thanks for reading anyways, I'd love to thank all of y'all for the support y'all have given my story so far, I'm very proud of the 8 reviews, 12 favorite and 32 story alert emails I've gotten the past day or so. Thank you all so much, and remember I do always appreciate those reviews.


	3. Chapter 3: Courage

_Chapter 3: **Courage**_

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"You're here?" Blaine asked, as if the person in front of him wasn't confirmation enough.

"Yeah dude, thought you might need your best friend," Joey replied and David and Wes stiffened on both sides of Blaine. "As soon as I heard I ran next door and demanded I got a ride up here, it was killer man."

Blaine smirked and reached out with his right hand as he and Joey simultaneously performed their handshake that had been a trademark of their friendship since middle school.

Blaine leaned back into his seat, and Joey leaned forward towards David and Wes.

"Joey Richman, best friend," he introduced to David and Wes and both shook his hand limply.

"David and Wes, we've heard," David snarled before Wes nudged him with a discreet look at Blaine who was staring off into space.

Joey recoiled, falling back into his seat and crossing his arms with a smirk.

Blaine stared out his window, watching the landscape swiftly pass by as he got closer and closer to the destination. The destination where, Blaine was sure, he'd have to break his brother's heart.

As the countryside began to turn into the urban city Blaine's stomach began to churn. His little brother attended St. Edwards Academy. A 'feed-in-school' to the Dalton Academy, it was located five minutes outside of Columbus, Ohio. Which meant he only had five minutes to prepare for the inevitable.

Leave it to his father to put this on his shoulders.

"How old his Jake these days?" Joey asked casually, and Blaine swallowed the lump in his throat as he turned his gaze down to his lap where his hands were folded neatly.

"Eleven, he just turned eleven," he whispered and the car fell silent, Joey even put his Twizzlers down next to him and rested his chin in his hand as he looked at Blaine thoughtfully.

Blaine caught his eye and Joey nodded in confirmation, as if reading his mind.

Yes, Blaine's dad was a dick for making him do this.

The gates to St. Edward's were foreboding, and as the car came to a stop in front of the main building Blaine's heart began to race.

He couldn't do this; he couldn't do this to Jacob.

As he slowly climbed out of the car he became transfixed on the red brick building ahead of him. There was so much red, so big, too much red.

He couldn't do this.

His phone buzzed again, and Blaine looked down at the text message.

_[Kurt-Courage. Be there soon.]_

Wes and David both took a step so they were on either side of him, and he felt Joey rest a hand on his back.

Courage.

There were twenty steps leading up the stairs into the red brick building.

It took a hundred and thirty-seven steps on the red-oak wooden floors to get to the principles office.

And only two knocks on the large, wooden door, before the principle answered.

"Mr. Anderson," The principle greeted with a firm handshake that swallowed the seemingly weak one Blaine was able to muster.

Over the principle's shoulder Blaine saw his little brother, who looked at him with a mix of confusion and excitement.

But no dread, not expecting anything dreadful.

Courage.

"I'll give you two some time," The principle acknowledged and with a final pat on the back from Joey, Wes and Blaine, the solid oak door slammed shut. Leaving him and his little brother alone.

Courage.

"What's up little man," Blaine whispered, ruffling his brother's untidy black hair as he dropped down into the armchair next to Jake's. He stared at his brother, his heart still racing.

His little brother's feet dangled over the wooden floor, blue eyes large and innocent, freckled from the past summer and white from the current winter. And a red scar slashed across his cheek, prominent against the white skin, and red. So very red.

Courage.

"Jake," Blaine started, licking his lips nervously.

"My game isn't until six, you're early," Jacob interrupted with a large smile and Blaine bit his lip hard enough to draw blood. He ran his hand over his face, the red blood wiping off onto his hand and Blaine focused on it, trying to draw in his thoughts.

"Jake," Blaine tried again, forcing his eyes away from the red blood and back onto his brother, "You know how Mom was sick?"

"Yeah?" Jake replied slowly and Blaine felt his heart drop even more as Jake's smile began to fade.

"Well, she's not anymore. She's, well, this morning-she, well, she doesn't feel any pain anymore," the words sounds fake as Blaine said them. They felt fake. Blaine didn't know that, she could be in pain, forever in pain.

"What?" Jake asked again and Blaine tensed up.

What more was there to say, he'd explained it enough.

"She's dead Jake!" Blaine snapped, immediately regretting it, regretting taking it out on this eleven-year old kid.

"No she's not," Jake, whispered, his eyes wide and Blaine felt his own eyes begin to tear up. "She's not, she's supposed to be at my game tonight. She told me she'd be at the game."

Blaine reached to hold his brother but Jake recoiled, panicked.

"She'll be here in four hours for my game!" He cried, pleading to his older brother and Blaine bit his lip to keep his sob silent.

"Jacob," Blaine whispered, resting his face in his hands and clenching his eyes closed until he saw red. Safe red. "Buddy-"

"Where the hell is dad!" Jake exclaimed and Blaine glanced up at him, "Why isn't dad here?"

"He's with her, making arrangements," Blaine whispered, a complete lie. He was probably at work, wife died and the bastard probably went to work. "He's expecting us home tonight."

The two brothers fell into silence and Blaine watched his brother cautiously as Jake stared off into space, his mouth slightly ajar and tears streaming freely down his face.

"No," Jacob finally whispered, glaring at Blaine. "I won't go."

Blaine sighed heavily and ran a hand through his hair, looking outside at the white landscape outside. Outside where young boys were running around, throwing snowballs, laughing, grinning. He couldn't look at his broken brother.

He didn't have that much courage.

"You don't have a choice Jacob," Blaine finally said, and he stood up, and straightened his jacket, "We're leaving right now. Joey is here; he went upstairs with my friends to gather your bags. A car is waiting outside, we need to go Jacob."

But his little brother didn't budge.

Blaine glanced down at his phone, at the open text from Kurt that he'd receive thirty minutes ago.

_Courage_.

He crouched down in front of his brother, resting both his hands on the kid's shoulders and forcing the younger boy to lock eyes with him.

"We need to see her one last time Jake, this is our only chance," his voice was weak, and broken, and full of pain, but it did the job and Jacob slowly nodded, as he rubbed the tears away from his eyes.

"Right now?" Jacob questioned, and Blaine swallowed the lump in his throat.

He had to be strong, he had to find courage.

He had to be the older brother.

"Yeah buddy, right now. Courage."

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**AN:** Good news, Kurt comes back into the story next chapter. And what I mean by that is that, Kurt becomes a _major_ part of the story next chapter. Get pumped.


	4. Chapter 4: Repeat

Chapter 4: **Repeat**

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"Hey."

Blaine opened his eyes slowly, allowing the world around him to come in focus. He hadn't remembered falling asleep, he definitely didn't remember falling asleep in Dolton.

"Blaine wake up, you're going to be late," The voice persisted and with a couple of confused blinks Blaine slowly got up out of bed.

"Seriously Blaine, it's already eight in the morning, let's go. I don't want to go to history without-" Kurt cut off mid sentence as Blaine opened the door looking at Kurt dazed.

"Kurt?" Blaine asked slowly, his eyes searching frantically around him as he tried to convince himself that this was reality.

That this wasn't a dream, that this was reality, and that his mom was still alive.

"Blaine, maybe you should sit down, you look a little pale," Kurt said slowly, eyeing him and he enclosed Blaine's hand in his own, leading him to the bed Blaine had just vacated. "Do I need to get Wes-"

Blaine broke out in a toothy grin. This had to be real.

That hell was just a shitty dream.

"No! No, I'm fine, sorry I just-well, I overslept didn't I? Give me like four minutes," Blaine's words rushed out as he leapt off his bed and grabbed his uniform. He slammed the door to the bathroom shut and began to shred off his nightclothes when something in the trashcan caught his eye.

His razor.

Wes had thrown that away in his dream, why was it there now? Blaine quickly shoved up the sleeves of his sweatshirt and looked at the scared but healed skin on his wrist. Nothing new. It had been a dream.

But if so, then why was that there?

"Blaine!" Kurt called from the other room, "We're late!"

Blaine ripped off his sweatshirt and pulled on the shirt in his hand, his heart stopping as he looked in the mirror.

Oh God no.

"Blaine!"

No.

"Blaine Anderson!" Kurt's calls didn't stop and slowly Blaine opened the bathroom door, his heart stopping.

"Blaine Anderson!" Kurt had turned into his mother, arms crossed and frown etched on her face. "We're going to be late."

"Mom?" Blaine whispered taking a step forward and looking around the room that had transformed into his old room at their house outside New York City. He hadn't seen it since he was eleven, right before he transferred to St. Edwards.

"Oh, Blaine!" His mother cried crouching down in front of him and fixing his tie, "You've tied this all wrong. Where's your father when we need him, him?"

"Probably screwing a secretary," Blaine said under his breath, regretting it the instant his mother's face dropped.

"Blaine Darren Anderson, you will not speak of your father like that. Now lets go, you'll be late if we don't leave right his instant," his mother sighed dramatically, grabbing her son's hand and pulling him through the door.

And into a graveyard.

Blaine looked around; it was pitch black except from the lone full moon.

"Mom?" He called out, lost, but no one answered and as far as Blaine could see, he was lone.

He walked a couple of feet forward until his foot collided with a gravestone that was sitting crooked on top of a mound of freshly turned dirt.

Heart pounding Blaine crouched down, bringing his face close to the engraving to make out the name engraved in the stone.

_Nathan Brandon Anderson_

No.

Blaine awoke with a start, his heart pounding and his hands clutching his temples to try to ease the searing pain.

"Blaine?" David asked urgently and Blaine looked around frantically, reality hitting him full force. He cried out in pain as he dug his fingers into his temple.

"Blaine?" Jacob whispered groggily, waking up and moving his head from Joey's shoulder, "Are you alright-"

"Pull over!" Blaine wheezed loudly and the driver pulled over to the side of the highway without hesitation. Blaine frantically opened the door and struggled out of the car, collapsing as he reached the dirt next to the road.

Panting he continued to squeeze his temples, hard enough to eliminate the pain, to eliminate the memory that was on repeat in his head.

"Blaine?" He heard his little brother call from the car, but a hush from Joey kept the kid at bay. Joey knew he needed space.

So thank God for Joey.

Blaine took a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves as he crouched in the dirt next to a major high way. He was pathetic.

He reached into his pocket and retrieved his cell-phone, and without a second thought, or any thought at all, he held down number four.

Until a boy answered.

"Blaine?" Kurt asked, and even through the phone Blaine relished the high pitch greeting, "Are you okay?"

Blaine chose to ignore that question.

"Did you talk to your dad?" The question escaped from Blaine's mouth quickly and Kurt drew in a long breath on the other side of the line.

"Yes," Kurt said slowly, as if searching for words, "And I can come, soon, tonight. I will be there by tonight Blaine, trust me. There's just, a small thing. Not great news."

Blaine held his breath as he waited for Kurt to continue.

"I can't go alone. Finn will be there."

Blaine let out a long breath, relief washing over him. That was it? That was the bad news. He smiled, and then the smile turned into loud, barking laughs the scared him probably as much as they scared Kurt.

"Blaine?" Kurt asked, his voice crackling through the cell phone but Blaine continued to laugh, losing his breath and gasping in-between sporadic barks of laughter.

What was wrong with him?

A minute of harsh laughing later and Blaine had gathered his breathe long enough to reply.

"That's fine. Lima's on our way to the airport. We'll pick you up. Don't go anywhere."

Blaine didn't wait for an answer, and hung up promptly, dragging himself up off the ground and brushing the dirt off his uniform he still had on. He ran a hand through his hair as he walked back to the limo, straightening his posture and wiping the tears from his eyes.

He was a man on a mission now.

He was going to get his Kurt.

And that memory on repeat could be pushed aside. For now.

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**AN:** 12 Hour car rides mean lots of writing. Also, thinking about making a prologue one shot(s) to go with this story? Thoughts? Comments? Complaints? Let me know. Reviews are always appreciated.


	5. Chapter 5: Home

Chapter 5: **Home**

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He was standing outside his house, bundled in a winter coat but still shivering. Next to him a taller boy, who Blaine pegged as Finn, stood with his hands shoved in the pockets of a puffy winter coat. Each had a duffle bag and each wore a look of relief as the car finally came to a stop in front of the house.

"Kurt," Blaine greeted, his voice smoth, his mood steady and calm. He would not break down in front of Kurt, he would not ruin what they had by being weak. The brunette boy wrapped Blaine in a hug and Blaine held on tight, resting his chin on Kurt's shoulder as he tried to keep himself composed.

"I'm so sorry Blaine," Kurt whispered into his ear, "Are you alright?"

Blaine let go of Kurt and forced a lopsided, small smile onto his face.

"Sure," he said, ignoring Kurt's judgmental stare and instead walking up to the tall boy who was still standing awkwardly in the snow.

"Blaine Anderson," He greeted with a strong handshake, one his father would be proud of.

"Finn Hudson," Finn said slowly, shaking his hand awkwardly. "Look man, I'm sorry about-"

"Let's get going, it's frigid out here," Blaine interrupted, clapping his hands together casually and motioning to the car, "Afraid it's going to be a bit crammed, but the airports not that far from here."

Finn glanced at Kurt before nodding and climbing into the car. Blaine turned to get back into he car but Kurt reached out and grabbed his hand, stopping him.

Kurt studied him carefully, his ice blue eyes locked on Blaine's. Blaine shifted uncomfortably under the long stare, fighting the tears that were pricking his eyes.

"We need to get going," he whispered quietly, barely hearing his own words but Kurt nodded, not letting go of his hand as he marched towards the car.

And Blaine didn't want him to let go.

Once settled in the car Blaine observed the awkward, mismatched group of boys he'd collected throughout the day.

"Uh, Kurt, Finn," he coughed awkwardly to get their attention after watching everyone stare at each other in silence for five minutes, "This is Joey, he's basically my best friend."

Joey scoffed, "Basically," he mocked with a roll of his eyes as he shook both Finn and Kurt's hands, eyeing Finn. "You're really tall. That must be hard for you when you're-"

"Alright," Blaine interrupted Joey quickly, and motioned towards the two boys who were still in their Dalton uniforms, "Finn, this is Wes and David, they go to school with us, uh, Kurt and I."

Wes and David nodded towards Finn in acknowledgment before the car fell back into silence.

"And this is Jake," he finally said, motioning towards the youngest boy in the car.

Jake looked up sullenly through his dark hair that was covering his eyes and mumbled an incoherent greeting.

Blaine licked his lips nervously as the car fell back into a lull of silence. The events of the day were resting on his shoulders, a heavy weight to handle, but Blaine was going to remain calm.

He was going to remain poised.

He was going to remain a Anderson.

If only for Kurt.

With the hour drive to the airport, the two-hour flight in Blaine's father's jet, and the half hour drive from the airport to their city penthouse, the group of mismatched boys didn't arrive home until eleven o'clock that night.

"My dad's still at work," Blaine whispered as he unlocked the door to the dark apartment, holding the door open for the group.

"Dad's working?" Jake mumbled through a yawn and Blaine bit his lip. Shit.

"I think he just went to the office, to straighten things out," Blaine lied, resting his hand on his brother's head and catching Joey's eye.

"This is a lovely home Blaine," Kurt whispered in awe as he surveyed the two story apartment, his eyes wide.

"Thanks, my mother is-" Blaine caught himself, "Was, the decorator."

That killed the conversation even more and Blaine mentally kicked himself.

Joey groaned tiredly from the couch he had crashed on with Finn and glanced at his watch. With a heavy sigh he heaved himself up, stretching.

"It's pretty late man, I'm going to crash. I'll come by tomorrow morning," he said, clasping Blaine's hand and ruffling Jake's hair. "Good night."

The door slammed on his way out and Blaine ran a tired hand over his face, the later it got the harder it was to keep himself together.

"David, Wes, do you mind bunking together?" He asked rhetorically, as he motioned towards the room the two had stayed in during Easter Holiday last year. "You remember where everything is."

The two nodded, patting Blaine back and whispering "Good Night" to Kurt and Finn before they disappeared through one of the guest room doors.

"Finn, the room next to them is vacant. There's towels in the bathroom, if you need anything don't hesitate to ask Thomas, he's the older gentlemen who's hiding around here somewhere. If you need anything at all he's your man," He instructed with a forced smile and Finn nodded slowly, glancing at Kurt before getting up off the couch and heading in the direction of the door.

Kurt and Jake both stared at him as Blaine continued to make plans in his head, there was so much to do, and the weight on his shoulder just kept getting heavier and harder to keep up.

"Kurt, there's an extra bed in my room. Do you mind-"

"Perfect," Kurt said simply, shouldering his duffle bag. Kurt and Jake followed him up the stairs and Blaine flicked on the hallway light, illuminating the long hallway. The room at the end of the hall was where she had been when she finally lost.

The weight grew heavier.

He opened the first door on the right and motioned for Kurt to step inside.

It was exactly like it was before he had left for first semester. The oak floor was covered with a large blue rug. A large king sized bed was centered, the dark blue comforter made perfectly and undisturbed. A smaller twin sized bed was pushed in the corner, next to the desk that was still covered with sheet music from the summer. It still smelled like stale Axe from Jake's parting gift, an Axe bomb, the morning he left for Dalton.

It was exactly the same, but so different.

"I'll be back," he assured Kurt, motioning towards Jake who was leaning against the wall, eyes closed and Kurt nodded, smiling a small tight smile.

Blaine turned around and gave Jake a gentle shove forward, pushing him into the room across from Blaine's.

Jake stood, half asleep as Blaine helped him remove his school uniform and slip into monogrammed pajamas that he'd received from the Trump family last Christmas.

"Alright, come on buddy," Blaine whispered as he pulled back the blankets of his brother's bed and waited for him to climb in.

"Blaine?" Jake whispered groggily, and Blaine rested his hand on his brother's forehead, "Are you going to be okay?"

Blaine closed his eyes tight, his breath hitching, "Good night Jake," he replied, the question left unanswered, and with a sigh Jake fell asleep and Blaine slipped out of the room.

The weight was too heavy, he couldn't do it.

When he went back to his room Kurt had already changed into his pajamas and was wandering around Blaine's room, inspecting every detail.

"You live here?" Kurt whispered without turning around as he shuffled through the sheet music on Blaine's desk.

"Only in the summer," Blaine replied as he reached into his dresser and pulled out a sweatshirt, "And every now and then on breaks when I don't travel with the family."

Kurt nodded, reaching out and grabbing the picture frame that was resting on Blaine's desk.

"Who's this," he asked and Blaine leaned forward, inspecting the picture and sighing.

"Nathan," he replied, staring at the tallest boy who stood in the picture his arms draped around his and Jake's shoulders.

"Who's Nathan?" Kurt asked, turning to Blaine puzzled but Blaine just grabbed the picture and placed it facedown into a drawer in his desk.

"We'll have to get up early tomorrow," Blaine whispered, avoiding Kurt's eyes, "A lot to do."

Kurt didn't answer, he just stared at the closed drawer that Nathan's picture was now locked in.

Blaine stared at him, heart pounding before he turned around and silently entered his bathroom. With the door locked behind him he collapsed to the ground, shaking. He stared at himself, his pitful self, in the floor length mirror for a few minutes as he tried to regain enough strenth to at least stand up and take his medicine. Because according to the Doctors and his Father that would fix everything. And Blaine needed to be fixed.

Blaine used the cabinent to heave himself back onto his feet, inspecting the dark circled underhis eyes in the mirror on the front of his medicne cabnenent. He couldn't believe he'd looked like that infront of Kurt. That could never happen again, he convinced himself, never. He opened the cabinet and took four pills, each different and each fixing a different part of him. He sat on the edge of the counter, taking deep, calming breaths while he waited for the pills to kick in.

Ten minutes later he was relaxed enough and tired enough to attempt sleep, even if it was just medical induced.

Kurt had fallen asleep in the time Blaine had been in the bathroom, and was passed out on the right side of Blaine's bed, the twin bed left forgotten in the corner.

And without hesitation Blaine flopped down next to him on the left side of the bed, curling into a ball and biting his hand to silent the sobs that even pills couldn't stop.

However, unknown to Blaine, Kurt laid next to him, awake, listening to the muffled and broken sobs. The breakdown Blaine had tried to keep from Kurt the entire day.

And silent tears slipped out of Kurt's eyes too, as he listened to the broken boy.

The broken boy he was determined to fix.

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**AN: **Who likes Blaine's past? Who likes David? Well then, just you wait, next chapter you're going to die. In a good way. Reviews are fabulous.


	6. Chapter 6: Past Part I

Chapter 6: **Past (Part I)**

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Kurt woke up the next morning, confused of his surroundings. It wasn't until he rolled over, almost on top of Blaine, that he remembered yesterday's events. With a tired sigh he pushed himself out of bed, rubbing the last remains of sleep out of his eyes.

He turned around and stared at Blaine who was buried under a mound of blankets and pillows, his face barely visibly. Even in his sleep a frown was etched on Blaine's face, his eyes clenched tight, as if fighting tears within his dream.

Kurt ran a hand through his hair, lost in this situation. Blaine was the support system and Kurt was the weak one, that's how it had been throughout their entire relationship. He was at a major loss as to what he was supposed to do.

Leaving Blaine, Kurt pushed himself into the bathroom, staring at himself in the mirror and groaning. He hadn't done his moisturizer routine last night, having forgotten with all the more important tragedies of yesterday.

His skin was dry, his hair was askew, and even baby face Kurt had stubble that needed to go. He reached in the dopp kit he had packed within his duffle bag and rummaged through it frantically, trying to find his razor. After a minute of desperate search Kurt stopped, realizing that he had indeed forgotten it.

Kurt groaned loudly, rubbing the stubble that was barely visible but there. There was no way Blaine could see him like this. Looking around the bathroom Kurt's eyes rested on a medicine cabinet, and in a desperate attempt to find a razor, he pulled it open.

His eyes scanned the shelves for a disposable razor, thankfully finding one on the bottom shelf. Kurt reached up and grabbed it, and made to close the cabinet, before his eyes rested on a bottle of pills.

Prozac.

Days of eighth grade health class discussion on depression rushed into Kurt's brain at once and he hurriedly shut the cabinet so he couldn't see the pill bottle anymore.

It made sense for Blaine to be depressed now, perfect and total sense; Kurt had been exactly where Blaine was. But that bottle wasn't new.

In a daze Kurt quickly shaved the patches of stubble off and ran his moisturizer cream over his face, the hour-long process taking under five minutes.

Thoughts of Blaine continued to run through his mind as Kurt dressed into a casual pair of jeans and a blue long sleeve shirt, not taking more than a minute to inspect his appearance in the mirror before rushing out of the bathroom.

He couldn't even look at Blaine as he tiptoed through Blaine's room, his mind still racing. So many questions were running through his head, it was causing a headache. He stumbled down the stairs and stopped in his tracks when he reached the living room.

Wes and David were lounging on chairs, sipping coffee and skimming through the Boston paper. Wes noticed Kurt first and nodded in acknowledgment motioning for him to join them.

Kurt stumbled into his seat, mind still racing.

"Dude, you alright? You look like you just saw a ghost. Want us to get your brother-"

"Step-brother," Kurt said hurriedly, the words pouring out without thought, "And no, thank you. I'm quite alright."

Wes and David exchanged a long look, eyebrows raised in disbelief. Wes set down his drink and leaned forward, staring at Kurt.

"Really?"

Kurt nodded casually, his legs cross tightly, but the longer Wes stared, the more his head hurt and the more questions he had.

"No!" Kurt finally exclaimed, uncrossing his legs and leaning forward as well, his voice dropping into a whisperer, "What is wrong with Blaine?"

Wes looked both appalled and confused, "What the hell Kurt, his mother just died!"

"No!" Kurt interrupted, his hands held up in defense, "No, not that. I know that. I mean, look, all I'm asking is if Blaine has had some personal issues before this."

David put his coffee down as well and leaned forward too, "What did he tell you?"

Kurt sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, "He didn't tell me anything. We never talk about him. It's just, I saw something in his medical cabinet when I was looking for a razor."

"You shave? You're like twelve," David joked before Kurt's glare silenced him.

"This is serious," Kurt, whispered, crossing his arms, "What do you two know?"

Wes groaned, "It's really not our place to tell-"

"But Blaine never will," David interrupted knowingly, glancing at Wes, "So we might as well."

Wes turned to glare at David, "Dave-"

"But he doesn't get to know we told you," David directed at Kurt who nodded solemnly, eyes wide in anticipation.

"Alright," David started with a sigh, taking a long sip of his coffee, "_Well it really all started my sophomore year when he came…_

_The weird thing was that he came alone. Usually, especially for the younger boys, parents come with them, to say goodbye, but not Blaine._

_I was in the Headmaster's office that day; it's a long story. I had accidently burned down a chemistry table. Regardless, I was this dorky sophomore, who thought he was the shit sitting outside the Headmaster's door, waiting for him to give me the standard lecture and detention._

_And that's when he came in._

_Blaine grew like, three inches his junior year, so he was short as hell when I first saw him. Short and scrawny with this mess of black curls that covered his eyes._

_He came in and sat down stiffly in the chair next to mine, and I could tell he was new. I mean, he was wearing street clothes, some Indie Band shirt that covered a red long sleeve shirt and a pair of jeans, you've only really seen him in uniform, but he has a shit-load of these Band T-shirts that someone just needs to burn._

_Not me though, I'm over the whole 'pyro' thing._

_So here I am, sitting next to this five foot tall, sophomore who looks like he's late to his own funeral. I've never seen anyone looking that lost and dejected at the same time._

"_Hey," I said, thrusting out my hand, "David Lee, sophomore, pyromaniac and rebel."_

_He stared at my hand for a few seconds and then jumped in his seat, like he realized what he was supposed to do and grasped it in a handshake._

"_Blaine," the kid whispered, his eyes focusing on anything in the room that wasn't me._

"_You got a last name Blaine?" I said casually, looking at the boy puzzled. He was majorly sketching out._

_The Headmaster interrupted me as he opened the door and glared at me before turning in surprise to Blaine who was staring at the ground._

"_Mr. Anderson?" The Headmaster asked and Blaine's eyes slowly traveled up to meet the Headmaster's. "We weren't expecting you for another couple of hours."_

"_Oh," Blaine whispered, his eyes wide, "I'm sorry sir. I can come back."_

"_Of course not Mr. Anderson, it's not an issue. Why don't you come in," He motioned inside his office and Blaine stood quietly, faintly smiling at me before he disappeared into the office._

"_I'm afraid you'll have to wait a bit longer Mr. Lee," The headmaster said dismissively and I shot him a mock salute before he too entered his office, slamming the door shut behind him._

_I don't know how often you've actually had to go to the Headmaster's office, but freshman and sophomore year it was more or less my 'Home Away From Home', and I knew every trick of that office._

_Including the mail slot to the left of the door. Now, I wasn't one for eavesdropping, necessarily, but well you know Blaine. You meet him and he draws you in. Right? So I propped the flap over the slot up and stuck my ear inside._

"_You came alone?" The Headmaster questioned and Blaine whispered a confirmation. "Alright, you know we rarely allow mid-semester transfers."_

"_Yes sir," Blaine whispered and the Headmaster continued._

"_But under these circumstances I feel it's a wise choice. You don't have to worry about anything here Mr. Anderson. We're all on your side."_

"_Thank you sir," Blaine replied and the Headmaster rummaged through papers._

"_We've arranged for your transcript to be shipped over, I believe you'll do quite well academically at Dalton, Mr. Anderson, and it says here you participated in you High Schools Glee Club?'_

_Blaine didn't answer, but the Headmaster continued on._

"_Well I'm sure that with an audition you will be a great addition to our group, the Warblers. As for boarding arrangements, because of your mid-term admittance, you will be rooming by yourself for the time being. I'd take advantage of that Mr. Anderson, it's rare any of our boys get a dormitory to themselves. We've assigned you to the Marshall House, our house system is meant to be your home away from home. There are fifteen other boys in your House, from freshman to junior year. One of them, is outside this very instant-"_

_Of course after being referenced, even indirectly, I hurried back to my recently vacated chair and whistled innocently as the Headmaster opened the doors again and eyed me suspiciously._

"_Mr. Lee, I'm ready for you," he said and I stood up and followed him into the office where Blaine was sitting swallowed by the large armchair._

"_Mr. Lee I'd like to introduce you to-"_

"_We've met," I assured him, smiling at Blaine who continued to stare at his hands._

"_Oh!" The Headmaster said, "Well that works out well then, doesn't it? Mr. Lee, as a disciplinary action towards your behavior in chemistry-"_

"_Accident," I threw in but the Headmaster continued with only a quick glare._

"_As a disciplinary action I am putting you in charge of our new student, Mr. Anderson here. His dormitory is the one right next to you and Mr. Smith's. I'm sure you will make Blaine feel welcomed here."_

"_Of course," I said as I stood up and clasped Blaine's shoulder, my hand recoiling as the kid nearly jumped out of his socks. It was weird. "Come on Blaine, I'll give you the grand tour."_

_Blaine quietly stood up and followed a pace behind me as we walked the halls of Dalton._

"_Really, you'll only come to the main building for class. We have four classes a day, on alternating days, which seems chill but less classes means longer classes. Trust me, you'll hate it," I joked but the kid's face remained passive, his eyes still trained on the ground._

_I took him outside, through the courtyard and into the large white bricked building, Marshall House. Upon entering I knew, just from the past five minutes with Blaine, that'd it be a shock to his system._

_The Salter twins, they graduated last year, were chasing each other around the common room, their marshmallow guns shooting marshmallows throughout the room._

_Five other boys were in the midst of a Guitar Hero showdown, which had escalated into standing on top of tipped over furniture while strumming plastic guitars._

_Six boys were yelling from upstairs for everyone to 'shut the hell up' because they were studying. And then there was Wes who in the midst of it all was tied up and gagged with a nerds rope._

"_Alright, I'll introduce you to everyone later," I said slowly, looking down at Blaine who was staring wide eyed, wincing at the yells from upstairs._

"_Everyone shut the hell up!" I yelled and the House turned to look at me, their eyes quickly focusing on Blaine who was cringing from my yell. "Sorry," I whispered to him, pushing him forward by the shoulder, stopping after he winced even more and tensed up. "Sorry, " I apologized again. "Follow me."_

_I led him up the stairs, passing by Wes who was screaming at me incoherently through the rope._

"_Just eat the rope Wes, it's candy," I said with a roll of my eyes, "I'll be back, I'm helping the new kid right now."_

_We left him begging for help downstairs as I took Blaine to his room._

"_You're right across from Wes and mine's room. Wes is the kid downstairs who's gagged with the Nerds Rope," I rambled on as I opened his door, revealing the large empty room that already had two small boxes sitting in it._

_Blaine walked over to one of the boxes on the ground and crouched down, removing a picture frame and staring at it._

_I stood awkwardly at the door, fidgeting with my hands as I waited for him to do something._

"_You're other stuff is probably on the way," I said but Blaine shook his head as he put the silver picture frame on the bedside table._

"_No, that's it," He mumbled, turning to look me in the eye for the first time. "Thanks, for helping me."_

"_Yeah," I said staring at the kid, "No problem."_

_The room fell into an awkward silence, and I left to go free Wes. That was Blaine's first day."_

"You just left him?" Kurt asked, eyes wide and David shrugged noncommittally, as he took a long sip of his latté.

"You got to understand man, I didn't know this kid. I thought he was just a rich prick who was moody because his parents had shipped him off. I didn't know," David insisted, his voice rising at the end of his sentence.

"It wasn't until Wes," David turned to Wes who looked up from the crossword puzzle he'd been doodling on through the conversation, "That we figured anything out. Two months after Blaine started school."

Kurt turned to Wes, and Wes opened his mouth to continue the story, until they saw Blaine enter the room.

He was still wearing his pajama bottoms and a long black sleeve shirt. His hair was ruffled from sleep, and the circles under his eyes were still prominent but Kurt saw a small, miniscule glimmer of hope in his eyes.

That was something to hold on to.

"Morning, what are you guys talking about?" Blaine asked through a yawn as he disappeared into the connecting kitchen and poured himself a cup of coffee.

Kurt locked eyes with David and Wes who shook their heads and mouthed 'later'

"Nothing," Kurt replied, eyes still locked on Wes's, "Nothing at all."

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**AN:** My AVPM autographed poster finally came today, after a month of waiting. Can I just say that Joey Richter and Joe Walker's signatures are some of the coolest I've ever seen. Of course Darren's isn't that bad either. Reviews are even cooler than this new poster!


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